Sam, Dean and The Evil Brush Monster of Doom
by JeffersonStarship
Summary: Sam and Dean celebrate Sam's birthday in the only way they know how - by fighting another monster!


**_AUTHOR'S NOTE_** - I have another one shot for you, this one written upon request. I hope you enjoy the result.

_**Sam, Dean and the Evil Brush Monster of Doom.**_

I crept into the cheesy motel room we were currently staying in, creeping as silently as I could, so as not to wake my brother, Sam, who was laying on his bed, asleep. Really, he looked as though he was a vampire or something, the way he slept flat out on his back the way he did. I had to hide a shudder at the thought of it - after all this was Sammy I was thinking about here - not some damn vampire.

I placed his present on the bedside table next to him, before lighting the candles on the birthday cake I'd especially bought for him. It was as though the flare of the matches I was using woke Sam, for he jerked into wakefulness with a shout of - "GLOW BOY! I DIDN'T TOUCH THE DAMN GLOW BOY, DAMN YOU ALL!"

I gaped at my brother before saying - "Glow boy, Sammy, what in the freaking hell's a glow boy?"

"Don't even ask - you don't even want to know!" Sam groaned, rubbing a large hand over his eyes wearily, before stretching and yawning hugely.

He blinked his eyes sleepily into the light filled room, finally focussing on the cake I had just stepped away from.

"What the hell is that, Dean?" Sam asked me, with another yawn.

"A crocodile. What the hell does it look like - it's a freaking cake! For your birthday!" I told him, before opening my mouth to sing a round of Happy Birthday at him.

Sam stopped me, holding one large hand aloft, before he said - "Don't even attempt to sing at me today, Dean!"

My mouth snapped closed - the song left unsung, before I said - "Open your present, Sam!"

I nodded towards the brightly wrapped present next to him, which Sam ripped open.

"What the hell is that, Dean? A brush? You brought me a freaking hair brush, Dean? What in God's name for?" he asked me, looking distinctly unamused.

I grinned, before saying - "Well, you keep breaking your hair brushes, Sammy ... must be due to all the damn hairspray you put on there during the day. Don't pretend you don't do it, because I've seen you!"

"I do not use hair spray, Dean!" Sam said, with the little pouty puppy dog look of doom only Sam could pull off with any efficiency.

I grinned at that, before something happened to wipe the grin straight off my face. The hair brush wriggled in Sam's hands, before it launched itself at Sam's throat.

"HOLY JEEZ ..... !" Sammy yelled, trying to bat it away, but the hair brush fastened little teeth into his hand.

He yelled, flicking his hand about, but the brush refused to let go of him.

I leapt to save my brother, while yelling - "I'LL SAVE YOU! HOLD STILL, SAMMY BOY!"

"I CAN'T, BECAUSE I'VE GOT A DAMN HAIR BRUSH TRYING TO CHEW MY FREAKING HAND OFF!" Sammy yelled into my face, as I tried to prise the damn thing off.

The damn thing soon let go of Sam, biting down hard on my knee cap and I almost yelled the place down.

Sam pulled the brush off, and I yelled again at the fresh pain as blood coursed down my leg, hopping around the room on one leg, flailing madly with one arm, while the brush chased after me, mumbling quiet curses at me.

"HELP ME SAMMY!" I yelled, before stopping at the table where I'd placed Sammy's cake earlier.

I don't even know what made me do it - but it proved to be the biggest form of inspiration I would get that day. I picked up Sammy's birthday cake and flung it bodily across the room, trapping the little menacing hair brush beneath mounds of jam, cream and icing encased sponge.

That seemed to stop the brush - probably overloading on all the high sugar content in the cake.

"QUICK! SALT AND BURN THE BUGGER!" I yelled, as Sam went to fetch the salt, the lighter fuel and the matches.

We took the hair brush outside, to a well secluded place where no one could spy on us, and burned the brush to a cinder.

I stared down at it, before turning to Sammy and saying - "At least it died with a sugar fuelled smile on it's tiny little face!"

I mimed wiping away a tear, and Sam looked at me in disbelief.

"You're not actually feeling sorry for a darn hairbrush are you?" he asked me.

"I can always get you another one, if you miss it!" I offered, pretending to give my brother a hug.

"Don't Dean. Please don't!" Sam said.

"Can I at least get you another cake, then, Sam?" I asked, as we walked slowly off, further and further into the car park.

Sam had to walk slow on account of my savagely bitten knee, but he at least sighed in a long suffering fashion.

"If you must, Dean!" he said.

I grinned, before hobbling off to do just that ....

THE END.


End file.
